


i'm in love with the things you do

by matskreider



Series: guys my age [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Communication, Daddy Kink, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matskreider/pseuds/matskreider
Summary: It had started as a joke, with the team. The way Juuse had pretty much latched onto Pekka from day one, for both the goalie and countrymen connection. The way he’d followed him around like a puppy, hanging on every word he said. When Juuse had moved in, the jokes had only increased. And while Juuse knew how to handle them, it was Pekka who had his moral compass crumble every time.Especially when they were made around the time it coincided for Pekka to have to feed. The overall crankiness that came from being hungry wasn’t helped by the teasing, however slight it might be. And when he finally did get to feed - and maybe use some of Damien’s other services as well - it was all he could do to stop from thinking about Juuse’s blood filling his mouth, Juuse’s sweet lips pressed against his own, Juuse spreading his legs for him, all while the young goaltender called him “Daddy.”(an important conversation is had.cannot be read as a stand alone.)





	i'm in love with the things you do

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. title taken from "things you do" by griffin stoller. take a listen if you can.
> 
> when i set out to write this, it was going to be about the first time juuse got to have that vamp d. and then instead it turned into kink communication and laying the foundation for juuse calling pekka 'daddy' both during sex and not. so basically i did more world building than smut. whoops. hopefully the next one can be that! 
> 
> if you haven't read the first one in the series, read it. you can find it [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11118111)

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Well please don’t, if not for our sakes, then for the sake of the cleaning crew.”

Juuse glares at Pekka from his stall, stripped down to his under armor. “Pekka, I’m being serious. I’ve never gone up against _Henrik Lundqvist_ before.”

Pekka raises an eyebrow. “If this is honestly stressing you out so much, I can say you wanted to be a scratch.”

“Don’t you dare. I just...needed some time to freak out.” Juuse scrubs his hands over his face, and Pekka pinches the bridge of his nose.

He remembers his own first game against some of the greats, Carey Price and Henrik Lundqvist being among them. It wasn’t going to be the end of the world, even though Juuse probably felt like the world was on his shoulders. Feeling like he needed to singlehandedly defeat Hank’s goaltending was something that he didn’t _necessarily_ need to take on, but Juuse did a lot of things he didn’t _necessarily_ need to do.

Pekka takes a seat in the stall next to Juuse, reaching out and putting his hand on Juuse’s knee. He’s so warm already, and Pekka wonders if his own cold touch was helping or hurting Juuse’s concentration. “It’s going to be okay, Juuse. It’s only three hours, then it’ll all be over. And only an hour of that is going to be spent on the ice.”

Juuse takes a deep steadying breath, then looks out into the middle distance. “Okay.”

“Good. Now get up so we can head home. We have a couple of hours before we need to be back here again.” Pekka stands and walks out of the locker room, intent on waiting for Juuse when he was finally ready. Instead, he gets accosted into a conversation via one James Neal.

“How’s your boy holding up?” Nealer asks, his hands in his pockets.

Pekka raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “He’s nervous. It’ll go away by the time the game starts but this is his first time up against the Rangers.”

“Eh, worst comes to worst we’ll just get some fans to hit the King with a catfish. No biggie.”

“That would get them escorted out of the rink and if that comes back to your big mouth then we’d somehow get in trouble.”

Nealer puts a hand over his heart. “Moi? Big mouth? I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm, that’s why all of your ex-girlfriends totally don’t have a group chat they use to bitch about you,” Pekka answers with a smirk.

Now it’s Nealer’s turn to look unimpressed. Though after a few seconds he does start to think about it. “...how would you even know about that?”

“I know a lot of people in this city, Nealer. But that’s not important right now. Just, tonight, do your best, yeah? Make his job easy.”

It’s at this point that Juuse comes out of the locker room, running a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t need coddling,” he says with a pointed elbow to Pekka’s side.

“It’s not coddling. It’s a mentor looking for the best conditions possible for his protege to flourish,” Pekka answers as Nealer gags and Juuse rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. I see the finer points of language are lost on you all.”

“ _Daddy,_ I’m hungry. I don’t want to talk about language, I want to go home and eat and sleep,” Juuse replies in Finnish. Pekka surmises that part of it was to get his attention (which certainly works) and to fuck with James (which always works.)

“Now this conversation is finished. See what I did there? Finnish, finished,” Nealer adds, a broad smile on his face as he finger guns at the two goalies.

“I’m going to trip you during warm ups,” Juuse says with a straight face, still in Finnish.

“Play nice,” Pekka mutters, before clapping James on the shoulder. “See you back here in a few hours.” James nods and heads off in his own direction, leaving the two goalies to get themselves home.

When they arrive at the house, Pekka locks the door before Juuse can get out. It’s a strange imitation of their conversation a few weeks prior, but instead it’s Pekka who is doing the trapping. Juuse slowly looks up at Pekka, and whatever he sees on Pekkas face makes him shake his head. “I don’t...want to talk about it, Pekka.”

“But we should, Juuse,” Pekka whispers. “It’s not that I don’t like it...far from, actually. But that’s _why_ we need to talk about it.”

It had started as a joke, with the team. The way Juuse had pretty much latched onto Pekka from day one, for both the goalie and countrymen connection. The way he’d followed him around like a puppy, hanging on every word he said. When Juuse had moved in, the jokes had only increased. And while Juuse knew how to handle them, it was Pekka who had his moral compass crumble every time.

Especially when they were made around the time it coincided for Pekka to have to feed. The overall crankiness that came from being hungry wasn’t helped by the teasing, however slight it might be. And when he finally did get to feed - and maybe use some of Damien’s other services as well - it was all he could do to stop from thinking about Juuse’s blood filling his mouth, Juuse’s sweet lips pressed against his own, Juuse spreading his legs for him, all while the young goaltender called him “Daddy.”

Then Juuse had started to pick up on it. Had called him Daddy a few times, in both English and Finnish, in front of teammates and in private. Pekka had thought it was just him coping with the teasing, and he was fully prepared to tell off the guys doing it. But whenever it happened, Juuse would just duck his head and blush - which didn’t help Pekka in the _slightest,_ Juuse looked and smelled so damn good whenever he blushed. He never said that he wanted it to stop, never stood up for himself.

When he had been drunk and called Pekka “Daddy” as he thanked him, Pekka had thought maybe it was just that. A lack of filter due to drunkenness. Then Juuse had continued, even in broad daylight in front of his friends.

And now he’d done it - albeit in Finnish - in front of Nealer. He _had_ to know what it did to Pekka. Every time he looked at him, leaned against him, it was a test of will to not act upon what he really wanted. When Juuse called him “Daddy,” it all but tested that already frayed willpower.

Now, Juuse’s not looking at him, his hands folded in his lap. “It was just a joke, at first,” he mumbles. “Thought it was funny. But then it….it kinda fit.”

Pekka nods, knowing Juuse can see it from his periphery. “I’m not opposed to it, but...is it a platonic thing or...something else?”

Juuse’s bright blush answered that question. Pekka’s teeth elongated slightly, and he swallowed back the little growling purr that wanted to escape.

“...It’s not bad if it _is_ something else, you know. I’d just need some warning,” Pekka continues in a low voice.

“...what for?”

“Because if I pop a boner in front of the team it’s uncomfortable for everyone involved.”

 _Now_ Juuse looks up at him, but he’s still blushing. “Y-you…”

“I’m dead, my sex drive isn’t. Especially not living with you.” Pekka knows if he were still warm he’d be blushing right now too, but as it is, he remains unflushed. But Juuse’s scent is filling the car, and they really do need to get out before Pekka puts his teeth through his own lip with the effort of _not_ jumping Juuse.

“So...as long as I, like, tell you ahead of time? Because I don’t always know, sometimes it just comes out, like, at home and stuff.”

“Well at home is one thing, unless there’s people over. I’m not going to stop you from saying it, I trust your judgement on when you can and can’t use it. But ideally, not in front of teammates.”

“But wh-”

“Not even when they don’t understand the language,” Pekka says, cutting off Juuse’s point.

Juuse sighs, then reaches behind him and unlocks the door. The moment he opens it, the chill December wind shocks Pekka out of the sort of haze Juuse’s scent was putting him under. He shakes his head a bit, before getting out himself. Juuse gives him a look of amusement as he walks by him to open the door. Pekka pinches him in retaliation.

Once inside, Juuse toes his shoes off and goes into the kitchen to start his pre-game ritual. Pekka follows, leaning against the island as he watches Juuse move around. He may be somewhat incompetent when it comes to making real meals, but he knows how to make the essentials.

Pre-game ritual foods included.

Juuse looks up while he waits for the microwave to go off. “Do you have any other rules?” he asks softly.

“Do you have any?” Pekka returns. He knows this is a two way street. This was not his first time engaging in a kink scene, but this was the first time he’d gone for something like _this._

“I’m...not quite sure how I feel about names yet. Like, pet names. But I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

The microwave goes off, and Juuse reaches up to get his food out of it.

“And how often do you want to do this?” Pekka asks, the last question before he himself needed to get started on his own pre-game routine.

Juuse shrugs. “Whatever feels right. Just kind of...moment to moment? I’ll let you know if I don’t, like...need it.”

Like all else in their relationship - and wasn’t that a thrill, to have that word applied to them - Pekka would let Juuse decide. Rarely was there a case where the older one knew better for the younger. Pekka hadn’t been human in a long time, and was sort of out of touch with the requirements. He’d listen to what Juuse wanted or needed, and act accordingly.

As much as Pekka was the older, more dangerous of the two, Juuse had him wrapped around his finger. And Pekka knew this. He could only hope that Juuse wouldn’t figure out just how much power he really had over him.

“Alright. I’m going to go sleep now. See you in a couple hours.”

Juuse nods, giving Pekka a crooked smile. It warms Pekka’s useless heart, and he takes the dismissal for what it is.

* * *

Pekka’s doing some stretches while Juuse’s taking shots in the crease. He’s looking good, his earlier nerves having faded away during the comforting routine of his own ritual. Pekka smells Hank before the other goaltender comes to a stop on his side of the centerline. He doesn’t have to look over to know what Hank’s going to say.

“So I take it everything’s worked out?” Hank asks, dropping down onto the ice beside Pekka.

“More or less,” Pekka replies, and he can _hear_ Hank rolling his eyes.

“Pekka. It must have, or you wouldn’t be willing to talk to me about it. And I didn’t get any more 2am phone calls, so…”

Pekka looks over now, only to see Hank looking back at him. They hold their gaze for a beat too long, and then Hank looks away. “Tell your boy not to be so stressed. It’s just a game.”

“If it’s just a game, then take it easy on him,” Pekka shoots back, his tone light. Then, after half a beat of silence, he adds, rather seriously, “And tell Kreider to leave him alone.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He has the nickname ‘goalie killer’ for a reason. There are YouTube compilations of his ‘victims.’ You get run over enough, you know how much it sucks.”

Hank snorts, then stands up to take his leave. “If he wasn’t ready to get run over, he wouldn’t have made it to the NHL. All’s fair in love and war, Pekka,” he answers, starting to skate away.

“And which is this?” Pekka calls back.

“Whatever you want it to be!” comes the answer, tossed over Hank’s shoulder.

Pekka rolls his eyes, but feels a gaze on him. PK skates over, coming to a stop besides Pekka. “He’s looking real good. Think this will go well for him?”

“Well that all depends on you guys, now doesn’t it?” Pekka replies as he stands and skates over to the crease, letting Juuse skate off and get some time to get in the zone. As he leaves, Juuse gives a little wink to Pekka, tapping his stick against his mentor’s pads. Pekka can hear the “oooo” from his teammates, and he shows them the back of his blocker in a way that clearly demonstrates what he _would_ do, if all of his fingers were freed.

Shortly thereafter, after the national anthems - thank you, Ms. Underwood - the puck drops, and the game has begun. Juuse’s doing good, despite the one goal he’d allowed from Rick Nash sort of early in the first. Fisher had single-handedly tied it up in the second, and then they were back in it. But by the time the third ended, and it was clear they were going to OT, Juuse was looking determined, but with a bit of uncertainty.

“You said it would only be an hour on the ice,” Juuse joked as he drank from his water bottle, leaning against the boards in front of Pekka.

“I didn’t anticipate your goaltending to be an equal match to Hank’s for so long,” Pekka answers, and it sounds harsh, but both he and Juuse know it’s just the truth. It’s not for lack of trying. Hank had faced 32 shots compared to Juuse’s 27, so the offence _had_ showed up thus far, but it was a testament to Juuse that he’d dragged it out against the King to OT.

And when OT comes and goes, and it’s going to shoot out, Juuse just looks at Pekka with a face that’s equal parts _are you fucking kidding me_ and _i’m very proud of myself right now,_ but mostly _what the fuck._ He hadn’t faced any shoot outs thus far, but he’d done okay in practice. Now was the time to put that practice to use.

Pekka watches as Hank denies Johansen on the doorstep, handing the puck off to an official afterwards. Juuse’s not so lucky, and Vesey’s able to get one past him. Pekka holds out hope that Smith would be able to turn the shoot out around, take some of the pressure off of Juuse, but that hope doesn’t lead to anywhere. When Zuccarello takes the ice next, Pekka knows it’s over.

But it’s a shootout loss, so they’ll take the point and move on to the next game.

In the locker room, Juuse answers some questions, but for the most part the media focuses on Fisher and Josi, same as usual. Pekka goes about stripping out of his gear, and he’s about to head to the showers when a hand on his forearm stops him. He looks down at Juuse, still seated in his under armor.

He’s not overly pleased with himself, that much Pekka can read on his face. Juuse squeezes Pekka’s forearm, still maintaining eye contact. He takes a deep breath, and then whispers, “Can we go home, Daddy?”

Were it not for Pekka’s advanced hearing, it would have been lost in the general din of the locker room. But Juuse was looking right at him, holding onto his arm, and suddenly the room felt almost too small. Pekka mutely nods, and Juuse lets go, standing to finish getting undressed.

Despite everything in him telling him that it was kinda gross to put on his suit again, he skips his shower. It’s not like he played, and besides, he showered again at home anyway.

Even through the metallic tang of sweat, Juuse still smells _good,_ if not a bit sad. Pekka guides him out to the car, letting him climb into the passenger seat. It’s a quiet drive, Juuse exhausted and probably starting to feel what he’d done during the game. Pekka reaches over and settles his hand on Juuse’s knee. His understudy spreads his legs in response, leaning into the touch, but the way he does it almost makes Pekka run a red light.

When he risks a look back over at Juuse, he’s looking right at Pekka, tired blue eyes still beautiful even in the bath of red light filling the cab of the car. Pekka bites down those words, and turns to look forward again, completing the journey home.

They both go upstairs to take showers, but Pekka’s finished before Juuse is. Once he’s dressed, he immediately goes downstairs and puts some popcorn in the microwave. Juuse’s sweet tooth baffled Pekka, but he supposed that it could explain partly why he smelled so damn sweet all the time. As it popped, Pekka pulled out the chocolate sauce and a bowl, setting them on the counter below the microwave.

He busies himself with making the concoction - they didn’t have any sprinkles, but that was fine - and pours the popcorn into the bowl, adding the chocolate syrup afterwards. He hears Juuse coming down the stairs, and sets the finished product on the island to cool a bit while he washed his hands.

Juuse stops for a moment at the fridge, pulling out a gatorade, and then picks up some of the chocolate popcorn from the bowl. He sucks the melted chocolate off his fingers, and Pekka bites back a small groan at the display. Juuse hears him anyway, and looks up, a small amused smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not your fault.” Pekka’s not sure if they’re talking about the popcorn or the game at this point.

Juuse takes a step closer to him, nestling his face against Pekka’s chest. On instinct, Pekka wraps his arms around Juuse, rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades. He’s warmer than usual from the shower, and he smells like Pekka’s body wash. The little claim there makes Pekka growl softly, more of a purr than anything else. He rubs his cheek against the top of Juuse’s head like a cat would, and he feels Juuse relax into his touch.

“...What were you and Lundqvist talking about at the line?” he asks softly.

Pekka lets out a sigh. “He asked me if things were going well with you. And then told me to tell you not to worry about the game.”

“Did you tell him to go easy on me?”

“...Not him, specifically. Though I did tell him to tell Kreider to leave you alone. At least he listened.” That warning had been a bit more for Kreider’s benefit than Juuse’s; Pekka wasn’t certain what his reaction would be if he saw Juuse get hurt on the ice, but it wouldn’t be easily explainable as human behavior, that’s for sure.

There’s a moment of silence, where only the sound of their breathing and Juuse’s heartbeat filled the gap in conversation.

“...Daddy, did I do well?” The soft uncertainty in his voice makes Pekka tighten his grip the smallest bit.

“Yes, you did. I’m very proud of you.”

“Should probably work on my break away stops, yeah?”

“Mmmmaybe,” Pekka allows. “But I think the first thing to do is to try and put it behind you. You still got us a point. And forced not only overtime, but a shoot out as well. You should be proud.”

Juuse lifts his face now, balancing his chin on Pekka’s chest. Pekka cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb over the apple of his cheek. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” Pekka murmurs, still rubbing Juuse’s back. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”

Juuse goes up on his tiptoes to pull Pekka into a kiss, warm and familiar. He holds himself there, and Pekka slides his hands down to the small of Juuse’s back, pulling him in closer. Juuse smells better up close, he always does, but Pekka’s control had gotten better in the past few weeks.

Of course, that control nearly went out the window when, as Pekka pulled back, Juuse whispered “ _Daddy…_ ” in such a sweet and reverent voice. Pekka groans but leans down for another kiss, and another, and another, until they’re making out against the kitchen island, Pekka’s hand caught between Juuse’s back and the edge of the counter.

He picks him up and Juuse clings to him, moaning softly into the kiss. He gently sets him down on the counter, pulling back just enough for Juuse to look at him with dark blue eyes. Pekka has no doubt that his own mirror that shade.

Juuse had wrapped his legs around Pekka’s waist, his arms over Pekka’s shoulders. As he leaned back a bit, the younger goaltender brought his hands back to cup Pekka’s face, holding him in place. Hesitantly, he traces a thumb over Pekka’s lower lip.

Pekka whines softly, but even he doesn’t know what he wants. For Juuse to stop, lest Pekka be tempted. For Juuse to continue, so he can see where Juuse wants to lead him. For the voice in his head to stop, and let himself enjoy the moment.

Juuse continues tracing over Pekka’s mouth, his lips parted as he concentrates. “Let me see?” he whispers, and his thumb moves up to press at the upper corner of Pekka’s mouth, where his fangs were. “Please?”

Pekka hesitates a moment, before murmuring, “As you wish.” He opens his mouth, curling his top lip just enough to show off his teeth. His canines merely look like oddly sharp human teeth, but he takes a breath in, focusing on Juuse’s unique scent, his heartbeat, his warmth, and he feels his fangs elongate to their full length.

They’re just long enough to be uncomfortable to close his mouth, but not as dramatic as the artist renditions of vampires tended to make them. Juuse looks like he wants to reach in, but thankfully thinks better of it at the last minute. He guides Pekka’s head this way and that, looking at his fangs from different angles.

It’s unprecedented, and Pekka just lets Juuse get away with it for a few moments. Just when he’s about to pull away, Juuse lets go, dropping his hands to his lap. “Okay, you can...you know, put them away.”

Pekka closes his mouth, working his tongue over his canines to make sure that they returned to normal as they should have, and that he didn’t accidentally knick himself. That had happened once before, and it _sucked._ Mouth wounds never stop bleeding, and his own blood tasted horrible.

A defense mechanism, though. To all vampires, their own blood wasn’t a viable means of survival - it tasted horrible and slaked absolutely none of the thirst. Other vampires, however, were fair game.

“Did you sate whatever curiosity lead you to do that?” Pekka asks, and Juuse nods. “...Can I know what it was?”

Juuse shakes his head. “Not yet.” He hadn’t yet brought his legs down from Pekka’s waist, and he reaches out to pull Pekka closer.

The vampire lets him pull him in closer, meeting his request for another kiss. When he tries to deepen it however, Pekka pulls back, his nose scrunched in displeasure. “You still taste a bit like chocolate,” he mutters, scraping his tongue against his teeth to try and rid himself of the taste.

Juuse rolls his eyes, releasing Pekka from his grasp. “Only you would be upset that your boyfriend tastes like chocolate,” he complains as he slides down from the island, walking back over to the bowl of popcorn. It’s colder now, but judging from the sounds of eating, Juuse doesn’t seem to mind.

“And if you tasted like what I _do_ eat, I’d be extremely worried,” Pekka responds, rinsing his mouth out with water. That was probably the only thing leftover from his human days that didn’t cause him to throw up (in small enough doses.) Which was helpful for surviving in Finland, as a staple, as well as swimming, showering, and keeping up appearance sakes with drinking from his water bottle during games.

“Eh, might be kind of hot.” Juuse’s words took him by surprise, and he looks up at the young netminder walking back to the stairs, the bowl of popcorn tucked under his arm. “Come on, I wanna watch a movie.”

“Juuse, it’s really late.”

“You’re a vampire, this is your prime time.”

“That’s a hyper-inflated truth and you know it,” Pekka mutters under his breath, but follows Juuse, shutting the lights off and locking the doors as he goes.

They end up in Pekka’s room, just because his has the TV in it, and because after that moment in the kitchen, Pekka’s not sure he wants to be in Juuse’s room, where everything smells so enticing. One of the many James Bond movies is on, Juuse half paying attention, half spacing out against Pekka’s chest. Every once in awhile, Pekka runs his fingers through Juuse’s hair, making the dark brown strands stand up. It’s entertaining, playing around with the soft mess of hair, freshly washed and fluffy from air drying.

Eventually Juuse fades away into sleep, and Pekka finds himself in the position of fulfilling an actual father’s role. He sets the bowl on the bedside table, and gently gathers Juuse into his arms. The younger goaltender curls up against Pekka’s chest, not waking much beyond that. Pekka walks steadily down the hall to Juuse’s room, and goes to set him down. It’s then that Juuse awakens, clutching onto Pekka’s shirt with a surprisingly sure grip.

Pekka looks down at him, and finds Juuse looking up at him, sleepy but determined. “You need to sleep in your own bed,” he murmurs.

“Wanna sleep with you,” Juuse insists. He’d been surprisingly good about that one rule, about staying in his own space. Why now, of all times, he wanted to challenge that, Pekka had no idea.

“Juuse, don’t -”

“Please, Daddy?”

And how was he supposed to say no to all of _that,_ Juuse tucked so warmly against his body, holding onto his shirt, speaking so softly, while tiredness attempted to pull him down into the realm of sleep. Pekka knew it was a lost cause as soon as he looked down.

“...okay, sweetheart. Okay. But we’re doing this in my room,” Pekka says, turning and walking back down the hallway to his own room. He puts Juuse down on the side he didn’t use, pulling the covers back and tucking him in. He follows suit soon after, and Juuse curls up against him, just like before.

Pekka takes a shallow breath, trying to avoid thinking of what happened the last time they’d done this. The fear and uncertainty, the haziness of the dream, the panic upon awakening; he remembered all of it.

Juuse, it seemed, had little qualms about this. So Pekka tries again, settling in with an arm around Juuse, and letting sleep claim him.

* * *

_He’s back in bed, not wearing any clothes, the air warm and thick with a telling scent. Pekka opens his eyes and finds Juuse lying on his side, tracing circles over Pekka’s chest. When he notices Pekka’s awake, he gives him a grin and pulls himself up enough to kiss him._

_Juuse pulls back with a wrinkled nose, smiling a bit. “I may not have thought that through.”_

_“Thought what through?” Pekka asks, but as he speaks, he gets is own answer. He has blood in his mouth, Juuse’s, judging by the taste. He’s filled with alarm, and moves to leave, but Juuse pushes himself up to straddle Pekka’s lap._

_“That. You don’t have to go panic and wash out your mouth every time after you feed,” Juuse says, and kisses Pekka again to prove it. “And I trust that you’re satisfied now, yes?”_

_And, in a moment where Pekka can feel the division between his dream-self and his conscious-self, his dream-self smirks and leans down to mouth at Juuse’s neck. When his lips gloss over the young goaltender’s jugular, Pekka feels helpless to watch what was inevitable - but he never bit down._

_Just kissed and sucked, no fangs involved, drawing soft moans from Juuse as he did._

_“Maybe...after another round,” Pekka murmurs, sliding his hands down to Juuse’s ass and squeezing. Juuse squeaks at the attention, blushing instantly. “Daddy,” he whines softly, but it holds no genuine complaint. Just a fond exasperation, so characteristic of many of their interactions._

_Pekka feels himself playfully growl at Juuse, rolling them over so Juuse’s on his back with Pekka over him. Juuse’s giggles are so different from the choked screams Pekka remembers from the last time they were in this position._

_Slowly, tinged with happiness and contentment, everything fades away._

* * *

Pekka awakens with Juuse still tucked against his side, though it was obvious he hadn’t been there the whole time. His teeth were brushed, for one thing, and he was playing with his phone, even though it had died the night before.

Juuse looks up at Pekka, smiling softly. “See? Not so bad,” he murmurs, reaching one hand up to cup Pekka’s cheek.

Pekka hums. “No, I daresay not.”

“Does that mean I can stay in here with you more often?” Juuse asks, his smile turning hopeful.

“I really can’t ever say no to you, can I?” Pekka muses aloud.

“It’s because you love me, Daddy.”

“That I do, sweetheart. You feeling better from yesterday?”

“Yep!” Ah, to be young again. Already moving onto the next thing. “I don’t know when my next start is, but we should probably get going if we want to be there on time. We’ve got that road trip through Pennsylvania and New Jersey starting tomorrow,” Juuse explains through a yawn.

Pekka groans, but sits up, cracking his back as he does so. “If you staying in here makes my morning’s slower, you might get put back in your room,” he mutters into his hands. They both know it’s an empty threat.

Juuse pats Pekka’s shoulder as he passes by to leave the room. “Whatever lets you sleep at night.” With that he’s gone, and Pekka’s left staring at the space he’d occupied only a few moments prior. Even with his departure, Pekka can still smell him, can remember how he was standing as he stepped out the door. He knows, logically, that Juuse’s just downstairs - collecting his things for morning practice, no doubt - but there’s a part of him that paces uncomfortably with his departure.

_There’s a way to keep him forever._

Pekka shuts that line of thinking down immediately as he gets up to get dressed. That is a conversation for so much later, if at all. Not for a relationship barely a month old, _if that._ Theirs was a curious case, given how long they’d lived together and how long they were attracted to each other before they actually did anything about it.

Pekka shakes his head as he walks downstairs. He can think about that later, it’s much too early for that much math.

Juuse’s waiting by the front door, a puppy ready to be let out for the day. Pekka walks over, and Juuse greets him with a smile and a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, and while part of Pekka wants to selfishly take Juuse back upstairs and make sure he knows who’s he is, the majority of him recognizes the importance of being on time for practice.

He opens the door, and the two of them step out into the light.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, hank makes a return. what can i say, i really like him. come into my inbox to yell more about them on [tumblr.]()


End file.
